


We Could Be Heroes

by Lumakiri



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22632112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumakiri/pseuds/Lumakiri
Summary: A collection of shorts from the Linked Universe
Comments: 8
Kudos: 104





	1. Only in Dreams

Legend dreamed of her a lot. 

Legend dreamed a lot anyway, Hyrule mused. Most often he had nightmares, not loud frightful affairs that the others would notice, but Hyrule would see his eyes screw up and fist clench and half-silent expletives whispered in rage. Sometimes, he seemed more peaceful, murmuring her name just before he woke. He was always hard to wake, those mornings. But Hyrule never dared ask him, knowing how fiercely secretive of his adventures Legend was. That is, until one night, where Hyrule was on middle shift. Legend began to thrash wildly in his sleep, arms flailing as if he was trying to find something to cling to. His legs kicked out and Hyrule realised he was trying to _swim_ , in his sleep. Legend shook and sobbed but just as Hyrule moved to wake him, he settled down back into a more restful slumber. However, Hyrule quietly decided he had to know. If only to be able to comfort his friend. He knew Legend would never broach the subject by himself and would never admit he needed comfort. That morning, Hyrule managed to catch him on one edge of the camp as he was gathering his vast amount of trinkets into his bag. 

"Who's Marin?" 

He hadn't meant to word it like that. The name just seemed to bubble and burst from him. Legend froze, like a rabbit in lanternlight. For a brief moment his expression was haunted and lost, before his features turned into a snarl that Hyrule had never seen before. Legend got angry. A lot. He would shout and swear and curse and shake his fists at things. That wasn't unusual. _This_ was. He looked absolutely livid. Hyrule found himself shrinking backwards. Legend finally responded with two words dripping with such fury, venom and hurt that Hyrule actually flinched. 

_"No. One."_

Hyrule decided to never mention it again. 


	2. Water with Attitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Legend fights the ocean

“You’ve got to be kidding me,”  
“Legend, it’s just a  _ boat _ ,”  
“A boat?! It’s a plank of wood with a rag tied to it! If you think for one second I’m getting on that thing you’ve gone mad.”  
“It’s the quickest way across the peninsula-”  
“Peninsula my ass, that’s ocean. Look, waves. Salty. Ocean. You’re not getting my chosen ass on a plank on the ocean.”  
“A peninsula is a piece of land protuding outwards, actually, the water is kind of irrelevant-”  
“Hyrule, shut up! You are not helping my side here!”  
“Legend, I'm not taking sides. It’s a raft, I’ve used them before, and Wild is right, it’s the quickest way across.”  
“Well y’all can play goddessdamned sailors, I’m keeping my two feet right here on land where they belong.”  
“What even is it with you and water? Can’t you swim or something?” Warriors barely finished his comment before a string of expletives came his way,   
“I can swim _perfectly fine_ , thank you. Water is fine, a nice river, or pond, lake, puddle, fine. I’m just not risking that water with attitude,” Legend motioned wildly at the gentle waves lapping the shore. The bay couldn’t have been quieter. It may as well have been a lake.  
“Did you seriously just refer to the sea as ‘water with attitude’?”  
“Fuck _OFF_ , Warriors!”

And that was how eight of their number floated peacefully across the bay, and one very angry member stomped his way the long way around. It was a number of hours before they saw him again at the tip of beach where they’d made camp. He was trudging through the sand, soaked through and covered in cuts and scratches. His sword, however, was still in its sheath, his bloodied fists clenched white. Wet sand clung to his boots and legs, with the stray seashell and red petal here and there. In silence, he marched right past his companions to the empty bedroll they’d already set up for him, and throwing his pack down, began to pull off his damp garments.  
“What have you been fighting?” Warriors began dryly, raising an eyebrow. The others turned to look at Legend wordlessly, who, without missing a beat, responded-  
“The ocean.”  
“What, like a fish?”  
“No, the ocean.”  All of them exchanged glances. Most of them settled on Time, who glared back and rose his hands as if to say, ‘this shit is beyond my knowledge’.  
“Legend,” Twilight started slowly, “How did you fight the ocean?”  
“ _Why_ did you fight the ocean?” Wind chipped in, not hiding the bemusement and amusement in his voice.  
“I don’t recall it being any of your fucking businesses?” Legend snapped, and after throwing his wet tunic over a log near the fire to dry, pulled on another from his bag and collapsed onto his bedroll without another word.


	3. The Emerald Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Time reflects on his people.

He couldn’t help but look for them every time they passed through a forest.

Time had seen the similarities between the countries they all inhabited. Despite sometimes vast amounts of time and space separating them, some things remained consistent, unchanging. Often, things were shared. Death Mountain nearly always loomed upon the skyline, Keese always seemed to lurk in caves. Nearly all of them had encountered a Zora, though they seemed to vary wildly in temperament and appearance. Same could be said for Gorons, though they never changed at all. Even the peculiar bird-folk seemed to be a part of both Wild and Wind’s lands. But he had yet to see them.

It had been a long time since he had seen them, and he knew that they were not to be found by Twilight’s time. When he mentioned the forest children once, briefly, he was met with blank looks and Wind and Wild believing he spoke of those odd little leaf critters. He tried not to dwell on their absence too much; thinking about what would drive the secretive race away from their beloved father and protector upset him. Instead, every forest, every wood, every vague copse of trees, he would strain his ears for their laughter. His eye would scan the branches and leaf litter for any hint of movement, the jingle of a fairy or a child-sized boot print. But, the unfamiliar canopies would remain silent, and the forest always still. They were never like his woods, swelled with magic, where his beloved Kokiri once climbed the trees and danced in the forest meadows.

Sometimes, if he closed his eye and turned his face to the sunlight through the leaves, he could still see them racing through the trees, singing and chattering, as if there was never any evil in the world.


	4. The Storm's Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Mark of Two's Song of Storms arrangement of the same name.

The meadow stretched out for as far as the eye could see, vast swathes of golden grass that swayed and thrashed in the winds. Above, deep grey rainclouds swelled, the sky bruised yellow and purple where they parted. The breeze picked up fiercely around the nine, whipping their hair in the heavy, thick air.  _ A storm was coming. _ Time could almost taste it, the pressured, humid air swimming around his head. Looking at his companions, many, if not all of them, felt the same. They formed into a circle without a word shared between them, silent looks exchanged and confirmed the shared feeling. Danger. The oppressive, thick seconds that ticked past were suddenly broken by the crack of a lightning strike hitting the earth some distance from them. Time felt Legend, who was immediately to the left of him, flinch and tense up. The group murmured and shuffled from foot to foot, readying their swords in their grasp.

The great roar of thunder that happened moments later was swiftly followed by the thrum of hoofbeats. In the distance, horses appeared on the horizon. It was impossible to tell if the riders were human or bokoblin, but Time was quite sure they were enemies regardless. The sky behind them was smudged and he recognised the sign of distant rain.   
“Riders,” he breathed to his compatriots, his voice crackling. “There’s no cover on this open plain. We cannot outrun horses, even at this distance. Prepare.”   
There was no verbal acknowledgement to his words; it wasn’t needed. Another lightning strike further illuminated the hordes that rode toward them, and it became quite clear they were neither human nor bokoblin. Skeletal bodies rode skeletal steeds. Stalfos, in Wild’s Hyrule? Stalblins or Stalnoxes, maybe. The hairs on Time’s arms stood on end; from the electricity thrumming through the air, the sense of dread at the skeleton army approaching them, or both, he wasn’t sure. He drew his own blade and grasped the hilt firmly with both hands as the sky above them finally burst, raindrops the size of pebbles hitting the earth.

The storm embraced him. His ears picked up the creak of a phantom windmill and the musical, steady whirring of a phonograph. The languid, maddening rhythm of that song played in his head, the beat synchronous with the pattering of raindrops around him. The first rider began to crest the hill on which they stood.  
“For Hyrule!” he roared above the thunder and the vicious winds. The first swing of his great claymore decapitated the nearest Stalfos, and his companions sprung to life. Swords of all sizes flashed in the lightning, and he could tell Sky was somewhere to his right as the unearthly glow of the sacred blade throbbed just at the edge of his vision. Some of the Stalfos had leapt from their stricken mounts and had drawn their own blades. Time began to fall into step, methodically dispatching a Stalfos to his left, then his right, then his left, over and over. Battle was easy to him. It was a dance, a movement, a beat that his body knew almost instinctively. He was barely aware of the shouts of Warriors to stay in formation as he moved further into the fight. All he could hear was the sound of his sword connecting with bone, the blood rushing in his ears, and the soft, persistent notes of the storm’s calling.


	5. A Child to Stop The Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the 'Masks' comic

The camp was silent, only the gentle crackling of the fire and the wind on distant trees audible to his ears. He was on the middle shift, the darkest part of the night. He stoked the embers, watching as the firelight danced in the eyes of  _ that mask _ . Wild had left it propped against the stump where he’d been seated that evening as they swapped stories and showed off their scariest possessions. He pulled out that thing and Time’s blood ran cold. He’d regained his composure, joined in the laughter and jest, as not to cause any concern among his fellows. But now, as they all slept, it was just him and the mask. 

He dropped the stick he’d been jabbing at the fire and tentatively reached toward the leering visage, his fingertips brushing the slick, polished surface. Breathing inward sharply he grasped it and pulled it into his lap, running his palm over its face. There was magic in this mask, yes, but it wasn’t the same, dark twisted energy he knew. This was a pale imitation. He breathed a sigh of relief. Who on earth would make an effigy of such an evil thing? For what ends? Despite it not being the same, intensely horrific artifact that haunted him in Termina, it was still very unnerving. He stared at it, enraptured in morbid curiosity. The shadows flickered from the fire light across its unerring gaze of green and yellow. Time could hear it, as clear as the day he arrived there.  _ Click. Click. Click _ . The clock face turned, each thunderous click as it did echoing in the night.

_ A child _ , the man sneered.  _ A child to stop the moon.  _ He laughed, the clock turned again. It creaked and ached like the sky above as that monstrous rock loomed. _ Click. Click. A child to stop the moon. _ He could see its awful face twisted in agony. He could taste the ash and fire in the sky.

_ To stop the moon. _

Time gasped and dropped the mask as if it had burned him. There was silence again. His companions slumbered, their rest undisturbed. It looked up at him from the ground by the fire, the flames dancing in its eyes. He kicked it aside toward the stump and turned his back to it, shivering as he did so.

_ A child to stop the moon. _


	6. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Legend and Twilight argue

Legend was angry.

Legend had been angry five hours ago when Wild had persuaded the group to abandon the well used, trusted,  _ correct _ map and go on his ‘shortcut’ to the next town via a dense, rough thicket on the mountainside. Legend had been angry four hours ago, when Wind had nearly lost an eye to a huge bramble that Wild had insisted they push through. Legend had been angry about forty five minutes after that, when Hyrule had fallen down a concealed cliff edge and badly bruised his ankle. Legend had been especially angry two hours later, when they’d fought off an ambush of Wolfos and had to use the last of the red potions on a particularly nasty savaging the old man had taken to his left thigh. Legend had remained angry when it became obvious that they would now not reach the next town before night fell, and had decided it best to make camp here in this fucking thicket. His mood had not improved in the hour that had passed waiting for dinner to be ready. It had, in fact, begun to deteriorate even lower than Legend had previously thought possible. As he sat listening to Sky sadly inform Hyrule he was going to need to use his own magic to soothe his ankle, as they simply had no healing supplies left to spare, the last fragile bastion of his patience snapped.

“No. He’s too tired to use his magic, he’s exhausted. Since mister fucking navigator of the year over here got us into this mess, he can get Hyrule something from his stash- which I  _ know _ he fucking has,” Legend added the last remark with a glare as Wild opened his mouth to protest. “Why do we always agree to his fucking shortcuts? Why can’t we just use the map and route we all planned _together_ and agreed on was the fastest and safest route over easy ground? I’m sorry, he fucking failed at his job while I’ve managed to fucking navigate four countries by myself,” Wild visibly shrunk away, tears welling in his eyes and his hands shaking violently as he stirred the cooking pot. Legend for the briefest moment felt bad for his words, but it was fucking true, wasn’t it?  
“Legend, that’s not called for and you know it,” Twilight growled, “The cub made a mistake and he knows it, he was just trying to help us get there faster. You don’t need to make remarks like that, you don’t understand what he’s been through-” Legend scoffed loudly at that statement as Wild began to silently pass around bowls of steaming hot broth. He had no sooner put one in Legend’s lap before Twilight started again,  
“Wild, don’t fucking feed him if he’s going to be this way. He never fucking takes anyone else seriously. He has no respect for any of us or our difficulties. He never had any problems on his quests so Hylia forbid we have any shortcomings!”  
“I’m sorry, I’ve never had time to fucking mope about how terrible my life because I’m too busy fucking doing my job. This is it, this is being a hero kid, ta da! Some of us just pick up our shit and get on with it! If he can’t, the least he can do is not fucking slow the rest of us down whilst we try to sort out the mess that brought us all together in the first place,”  
“He watched his friends  _ die _ , Legend! He lives with his failure every damn day! He’s lost more people than you or I and he’s still here trying to help us all,”  
“Don’t you try and tell me how many people I’ve lost!” Legend snarled, rising to his feet as the firelight reflected in his furious gaze, “You have one fucking woman treat you awfully and use you for her own ends the entire time you spend together, and you’re suddenly the authority on fucking grief? Every fucking evening you sit there, tears in your eyes, looking at the sky like Hylia’s going to drop her back in your fucking lap. You don’t need to deny it because all of us see you do it. You’ve had one fucking quest and you act like your life is over,” Legend suddenly pointed to Hyrule, who looked up in alarm and shrank back as if to distance himself from the argument Legend was about to make, “You see him there? He has  _ no one _ . He has no family, no friends, nobody in the world to go back to at the end of a long day of dealing with the world’s bullshit. Do you ever see Hyrule crying when the sun goes down? Do you ever see Hyrule trying to take us on bullshit shortcuts to make his own ego feel better about his failings? No, because he just gets on with the task until it’s done! You have friends and a village and a warm bed and yet you think because I don’t bleed my heart to you all you’re the only one with any concept of loss?”  
“If you’re such a fucking expert, Legend, I’d love to hear it,” Twilight drawled dryly in a mockery of Legend’s own usual caustic tone. Something in him broke. The walls he had built up, the dam in his soul that had kept the hurting at bay since he was sixteen, began to crumble away. How- how dare Twilight of _all fucking people_ tell Legend how he should feel? How dare any of them begin to even think they have the right to question his experiences?

Silence had fallen rapidly and uncomfortably over the camp. Four had even paused with his spoon half-lifted to his lips. It swelled with unspoken questions and the realization Legend had revealed more about his past in the last three minutes than he had done in all the time he’d been with them, and he wasn’t yet finished.  
“I’ve done five quests. Count them on your fingers if such a big number is difficult to you. I’ve saved three countries, one of them twice, and damned one to destruction. I’ve done Hylia’s cursed song and dance routine enough times. I’ve lived this long through sticking to my own rules, picking myself out of my own misery and carrying on. The agents of evil do not wait for you to finish grieving, they do not give you the time to wallow and blame yourself for your mistakes, they do not care how much you’ve had to go through. And the only one-" his voice wavered, "the only one who asked nothing of me but a promise… died at  _ my _ hands. That whole island turned to fucking spray on the ocean at my behest. Each and every day her name leaves my lips and is scored across my heart and mind so I may never,  _ never _ break that promise and never forget the damage I have caused. But you're right, of course. What would a man who's destroyed a land know about  _ loss _ ?"

He drew himself up, hot, shameful tears streaking his cheeks. His scathing, hateful gaze swept across perhaps the only eight other men in all of time who'd understand the rage and hurt he'd kept company with for so long. And Legend wanted none of them. He stood alone, as he had done since he watched his uncle's last laboured breaths under the castle. The man, barely more than a boy, with trembling limbs threw the bowl of broth to the ground.   
"You may all be content to keep your failures as bedfellows but I wield mine as my blade. I have got stronger, wiser, quicker, so that I will never make those mistakes again. I am the Hero of Legend-" his voice cracked and broke, as if the gods themselves found it laughable, "and I will fight every man, beast and deity in this life and the next ‘til I have  _ won _ .”

He turned on his heel and disappeared into the thicket, determined to withhold his sobs until he was far from earshot of the camp.   
Legend was angry.   
But he wasn't sure this time, at who. 


	7. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyrule considers what home is.

_ I grew up in declivities, others grow up in cities  
_ _ Where first love and soul takes rise  
_ _ There were times in my life, when I felt mad and deprived  
_ _ And only the slopes gave me hope. _

  
  


Home.

It was not a concept he’d been familiar with.

The oldest among them lingered in every forest they passed through, fingertips brushing tree trunks like he was greeting old friends. The youngest gazed longingly at distant oceans on the horizon, just as the first would look toward the skies and the birds that cried there. The farm hand was never happier than when they passed through Malon’s ranch, or the smith through a forge. Even the wildling and the veteran had houses to call their own.

But for Hyrule, no matter how long he rolled the word over in his head, he could find nothing that felt right. Was home the ruins of the castle, where the Princess had invited him to stay? The dark square rooms suffocated him, a labyrinth of heavy drapes and ancient flagstones. Or was it the tiny dwellings of the villagers, who offered him a dry place to sleep after he’d saved them from monsters? But he had no such place that belonged to him. As long as he could remember, he’d slumber under open sky and biting wind, spending his days scavenging for food and hovering on the edges of civilization. He’d stumbled upon that old man by happenstance, and he knew not why he’d felt so compelled to take that flimsy wooden sword and set upon a quest to save a girl he’d never met and a country he owed nothing to.

That wasn’t true, though, was it? He loved his country. He knew of every meadow and mountain, from hedgerow to lakefront. He could tell you the names of every flower and fruitbush, of what was safe to eat and what would kill you in an instant. Which crevices in sheer rock walls led to caves free of monsters, where he could sleep in warm earthen corners. How to spot a burrow in the roots of a tree to hide supplies, or wait out a storm. Isn’t that why he’d done it? To save the country he’d walked upon and slept against since he was old enough to say his name. He’d grown under its sun like an oak tree, stretching his branches across it til he’d covered every inch of this beloved golden land. And he’d been furious,  _ furious _ , to see those vile creatures torment the fairies in their secret glades and scar the hillsides with blood and embers. The people here were simple folk but he had become their hero, who they turned to when danger threatened their way of life.

He had been thinking of home as a house made of bricks, or a place where friends or a family might be. But he realised, one morning, he slept soundest when he could see the stars. When he awoke in the dip of a valley, basked in sunshine, where the breeze carried sweet scents from distant towns. That’s where he felt he belonged, roaming as far as the lands would take him. And that had to count as home, didn’t it?

After all, what else was there?

  
  


_ When I pass through the leg high grass, I shall die  
_ _ Under the jasmine, I shall die, in the elder tree  
I _ _ need not try to prepare for a new coming day  
_ __ Where is it that fills the deepness I feel?


	8. A Friend To Dance With

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hyrule learns to dance

_ Shut up and move with me, move with me, or, or get out of my face  
_ _ I didn't queue for an hour to leave straight away _

The distant sounds of laughter and song still barely reached him even here, as far as Hyrule dared walk from camp. This was Wild’s home, and even though he insisted he was fully capable of taking care of himself, even Hyrule had to agree it was just too dangerous to go alone. He didn’t want to put the others at risk on some rescue mission if he happened to stumble into a Lynel’s den. He didn’t have the luxury of a friend to look over him if he was seriously injured, like Wild.

The thought left a bitter taste.

Hyrule didn’t want to join in the carousing and merriment. He couldn’t sing, he couldn’t dance, he couldn’t play more than a few notes on his flute. He’d just make a fool of himself and bring everybody down. At least, that’s what he told himself. He… struggled with pleasure. To do something just for the joy of it. Hyrule never allowed himself such luxury; the act of surviving was more important. He never sought to earn rewards, felt unworthy of even the meagre offerings of grateful townsfolk he’d saved. He couldn’t bear to live in that castle, where Zelda had given him the first proper bed and dry roof of his life. Hyrule simply didn’t understand what to do with pleasure, where to put it. It was selfish, indulgent, unnecessary. Foolish, he told himself, to waste time when people needed him. Why have a feast when scraps would sate him? 

“Found you.” A hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his thoughts, and startled fingers flailed for the hilt of his sword. “Wow, the thanks I get for checking on a friend,” Legend grumbled, though his eyes shone with mirth. Before his companion could protest, he’d sat himself down next to him on the forest floor and took a swig from a dark glass bottle, offering it to Hyrule.  
“You know I don’t.” Hyrule mumbled automatically, pushing the bottle gently away. Legend drew it away, but left it on the ground between them.  
“It won’t hurt you to relax for once in a while. Ah, what am I saying. You’re a more sensible man than me.” The veteran’s voice was gentler than its usual caustic tone, the soft laugh that followed his statement not edged with his trademark attitude. Hyrule chalked it up to the alcohol. Legend was always briefly more affable after a drink, before he started trying to pick fights. They sat in silence for a while, before Legend flicked his head back toward the direction of camp.   
“Why’d you ditch the party? You missed the old man trying to learn one of the rancher’s farm boy dances.” No, this time there was something different. Beneath the lighthearted tone he was putting on, his voice was full of concern.    
“I can’t dance.” It was clearly a lie. Hyrule couldn’t even pretend to himself he was telling the whole truth. Legend saw through it as plain as day. Legend always did.

Legend’s response was a disgusted snort.  
“That’s ridiculous. Everyone can dance.”  
“You once told Wind that his dancing looked like someone had set fire to a Octorok and it was trying to put it out-”  
“Okay, everyone but Wind. Come back and let loose.”  
“Legend, I am not dancing.” Hyrule’s voice wavered a little from its forced flat tone. Legend had already gotten to his feet, and offered him his hand.   
“Then I’ll teach you to dance.”   
“I already told you, I can’t.”  
“You can’t, or you won’t? Come on, I’m not leaving til you do. _Trust me._ ” Those words sealed it. Hyrule begrudgingly let himself be pulled to his feet. Of course he trusted Legend. He trusted Legend with his life. So why couldn’t he trust himself to just have fun?  Legend was beaming, eyes bright with mischief. He took both of Hyrule’s hands in his, and began to step in the rhythm of the distant music.  
“Copy me. One, two, three, one,” he nudged Hyrule’s feet with his own, and the younger man sighed loudly and obediently began to copy his movements. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Nobody else was here to see him being a fool. A smile was gently coaxed onto his face. Legend picked up the pace and spun him around with a flourish, and Hyrule staggered backwards disorientated over the log they had been leaning on. 

He was waiting for it. The guilt. The hot embarrassament on his cheeks, the shame in his belly, the jeers from his companion. His mind readied itself for his punishment. His body laughed. Hyrule giggled hysterically as he picked himself off the ground, and Legend joined him. No mockery, just a shared moment between friends.   
“So you are capable of laughing!” Legend cheered triumphantly, reaching to the pack at his side where he retrieved his ocarina and began to play. It was a cheerful, repetitive little ditty that grew faster each time, and Hyrule had absolutely no doubt it was probably a drinking song with obscene lyrics. His feet, against his will, began to tap and skip along with the melody, and his hands seemed to clap of his own accord. Unlike the careful, practised steps of the waltz Legend had been teaching him, it was a wild and jovial dance from old memories of festivals long, long ago, before- and he froze up, silent from the lump in his throat.

Legend lowered his ocarina and gently grabbed Hyrule’s arms, rubbing his shoulders briskly.  
“You okay, ‘Rule? I didn’t mean to upset you,”  
“No, no,” Hyrule mumbled, freeing himself from the gesture and slumping down beside the bottle and the log once more. “Just bad memories, that’s all.”  
“They’re not bad memories,” Legend joined him by his side, and looked up at the sky, “They were of good times, they can never be bad memories. You just have to learn to let yourself smile at them again.”  
“You say that like you know,”  
“I try to be grateful for the things I had, instead of the fact I lost them. I know she wouldn’t want me to never sing or laugh again.” He had a sad, wistful smile, and Hyrule knew not to pry.  
“Well, I guess you’re right, I can dance.”  
“ _Everyone_ can dance,” Legend playfully nudged him in the ribs, “They just need a friend to dance with.”

_ Shut up and stay with me, stay with me, or, or let go of my hand  
_ _ The lasers fill our minds with empty plans  
_ __ I never knew I was a techno fan


End file.
